


Let Me Get You Off

by ohthedrarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindfolds, Breathplay, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub, Dramione Kink Challenge, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mild Kink, Sub Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthedrarry/pseuds/ohthedrarry
Summary: Hermione was drunk when she told Draco that she'd led a boring sex life. He'd also been drunk when he admitted that he was more than capable of showing her a good time. When an owl arrived at her window, she jumped at the chance to see what Draco Malfoy was really about. And she had a delightful time.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 136





	Let Me Get You Off

**Author's Note:**

> shouts out to CammyWhammy from FF.net who beta read this story for me! this story wouldn't be half as good without her help :)

Vivid green flames licked at Hermione's arms as she spiraled halfway across London. The fireplace where she landed was tall enough for her to stand in without bumping her head, with black marble steps leading into the bedroom. She tried to remember the actions that had led her not only to Malfoy Manor but also to Draco Malfoy's bedroom. Somewhere in her mind was a memory of being more-than-tipsy at a Ministry gala, whispering to Draco with an excited giggle that Ron hadn't been the  _ adventurous _ type in bed. And that she wanted to know what it was like to lose control for just one silly moment. 

"I can do that for you, Granger." He'd leaned in close to whisper those words, a large flower centerpiece blocking them from view. She didn't know if she'd made it up or not, but she was sure his tongue had brushed across her earlobe. 

She'd thought he'd been joking—equally as drunk and playing along because they were the only two smart enough to realize how silly the fundraising event was. After all, he was Draco Malfoy—a man she'd barely been able to convince herself to testify on behalf of. 

"You got me off with no jail time," he'd said, reaching up a hand to trail it along her jaw. "So, let me get you off."

Three days passed in silence, as Hermione scurried through the Ministry's hallways, avoiding him at every cost. Then, late one night, a large grey owl had appeared at her bedroom window. 

_ Let me get you off.  _

Hermione stepped deeper into the bedroom, leaving the safety of the fireplace and the Floo Network behind. Deep, almost black mahogany wood covered the walls and floors. The far wall was a massive bookcase, covered in books of all shapes and objects in the same fashion. The bed was low to the ground and fit neatly into the shelving; she approached and ran her fingers over the sheets. It was all satin and soft; her heart rate began to speed up. To calm her nerves, she scanned the shelves, looking for titles that she might recognize. Most of those closest to the bed dealt with Quidditch and dragons—two subjects that Hermione had little to no interest in. 

A clock above the bed read 11:56 pm. Hermione had gotten there early; the owl had told her to arrive at midnight. She let out a nervous breath and sat down on the bed. Directly in front of her was an ornate floor mirror, and her reflection nearly made her jump. She was in her pajamas—a soft, satin tank top in royal blue with matching satin shorts. Her hair was wild from the tossing and turning she'd been doing in bed. She suddenly realized that she wasn't wearing any panties. Or shoes. She'd received the owl and had stepped into the Floo without a moment's hesitation. 

She was beginning to hesitate. 

The excitement and nerves could be felt from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. She'd spent nearly five years with Ron, having some of the most vanilla sex imaginable. Even  _ Luna _ had more exciting sex—which she learned about regularly when she, Luna, and Ginny would meet up for lunch. She envied her friends and the way they had set up the perfect relationship dynamic. Luna and Ginny up like feminist icons who controlled their men with ease. Behind closed doors, it was Harry and Neville who were in charge. 

Hermione picked at her fingernails, trying to avoid her reflection in the mirror. The space was big and sparsely furnished, with only a wardrobe, dresser, bed, and desk filling up the room. There was a small marble bedside table to the left of the bed, supporting only a single red rose in a simple vase. 

The clock read 12:04 am, but Draco was nowhere to be found. She hadn't heard any movement about the house since she'd arrived. Was this some kind of joke? Did she accidentally Floo to the wrong home?

Hermione's eyes landed on a ring on one of the shelves—it bore the Malfoy family crest. The thought both eased and increased her tension. Where the bloody hell was he? 

She didn't hear footsteps until nearly 12:15 am. Hermione didn't know whether to sit or stand—both felt awkward. Her nerves were making her overthink something as simple as her body placement. Hermione already felt out of control, but in a good way. She was excited. She took a deep breath, set her jaw. She decided she would sit at the foot of Draco's bed, her ankles crossed and her hands in her lap.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and there he was, a hungry grin on his face. Hermione had seen that look at the gala; the memory of Draco's tongue at her ear sent tingles down to the tips of her toes. Hermione let her eyes gloss over the insanely tall and angular figure in front of her. Draco was shirtless, wearing low-hanging black pants that showed off his muscular… everything. He was barefoot and stepped into the room with purpose, closing the door behind himself. 

"Granger." His eyes were hot and took her in as if she was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen. She fought the urge to fidget with her nails. 

"Malfoy." She nodded her head in greeting, her chest rising and falling way too fast. He could tell that she was nervous, and she could tell that he liked it. He slowly made his way across the room before bending down at the knees to come face-to-face with her. He reached out a hand to cup her jaw, easing her up to meet his gaze. 

A smile danced on his lips, causing one to bloom on her own. He was so close to her, and he smelled so good. She remembered Slughorn's Potions class and that damned Amortentia—she'd smelled the same scent then. He smelled like a bonfire on a summer night, all warm and burning wood, and the feeling of being so close to something that could hurt you. She hadn't known that a feeling could have a smell. But, then again, Draco Malfoy was mysterious that way.

His thumb ran across her chin up to her lips, where it stayed. 

"You're beautiful when you're nervous." He whispered, his voice gruff in the otherwise silent room. She was sure she blushed. 

Her eyebrow raised at that, her heart faltering slightly. 

"I'm only going to go as far as you let me," he continued, his tongue coming out to lick across his bottom lip. In his eyes, she could see the words he wasn't saying that he wanted to go as far as possible. "Tonight is all about you. Is there anything you know you don't want?"

Hermione wanted to tell him that that was a silly question. She hardly knew what she did want. 

"Nothing is going to go near my, you know…" She trailed off, hoping that he got the message. He chuckled at her, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her nose. 

"I'm not much of an ass man anyway, Granger," he chuckled. 

"What kind of man are you?" Hermione couldn't help the way that her chin inched forward, searching for his lips. She didn't want them on her  _ nose _ ; she wanted them everywhere else. The tip of his thumb slipped between her lips with the movement. She wanted to reach out her tongue and pull it into her mouth but remained still. 

"Intelligence is sexy to me," his eyes didn't leave hers. "But, so is a witch who doesn't speak when she isn't asked."

The comment stung a little at first. She wasn't used to anyone, let alone Draco Malfoy, talking to her that way. In any other circumstance, she would have called him a twat, and perhaps punched him in the face. But then she saw the look in his eyes, and electricity shot through her stomach. This is what she had come for. This is what she had wanted. 

She nodded her head as best she could with his thumb still pressed to her lips. 

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said around his thumb. His eyes sparkled, and he pressed his thumb a little further, slipping it entirely into her mouth. 

"In my bedroom, I want to hear you say my name. Got that?"

"I'm sorry, Draco."

His given name felt foreign on her tongue, but the look that took over his face made her want to say it repeatedly. He licked his lips for a second time and then stood. He towered over her most tantalizingly, and her lips were inches from his belt. 

"Stand for me, and turn around to face the wall."

Hermione did as she was told, standing with her back to him. She missed the feeling of his thumb in her mouth and how his hand held her jaw in place. She fidgeted with her fingernails again, clutching them close to her chest.

"Lift your arms up and then put them behind your back." She jumped when his lips were right next to her ear, the same one he'd whispered into only days before. She did as she was told, and his arms came up to her shoulders, massaging them gently. "You're quite tense. I'll fuck that out of you in no time."

She couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine. Draco took something out of his pocket—his wand—and waved it in the direction of the rose on the table. The rose lifted from the vase and as it danced through the air toward them, transfigured into two strips of red satin fabric. One tied itself around her wrists while the other draped itself over Draco's shoulders, apparently for later. Hermione wondered what he was going to do with it.

"Is that too tight?" His words ghosted onto her shoulder. She moved her wrists in a few directions, testing it out. The knot was snug, but she wasn't going to lose circulation. His hands traveled up her sides beneath her top, slightly tickling. She felt as if she was on fire. 

"No, Draco," she replied. He let out a soft chuckle against her skin. As she said his name, his grip on her abdomen tightened. 

"I have a few rules," he peppered slow and deliberate kisses across the back of her neck and to her other shoulder. "You're going to ask for permission to cum. You're going to say thank you when I let you. And you're going to remember to tell me to stop if you want me to. If you follow the rules, you won't get punished."

She nodded in earnest, ready to be tossed onto the bed and utterly taken. 

"Yes, yes," she breathed. "Yes, Draco. I'll follow the rules."

"Good," Draco stepped away from her. "Now, I want you to lay down in the center of the bed on your back. Legs apart and bent at the knee."

It was difficult, with her hands tied behind her back, but Hermione did as she was told. The satin was cold against her scorching skin, and she felt as if she was melting into it. Draco lifted the second piece of satin ribbon, and it shot through the air before effectively wrapping around her head, plunging the room into darkness. She'd been tied up and blindfolded. She couldn't stop the desperate moan that escaped past her lips. Hermione was torn between being frustrated at being tied up and being more than turned on by not seeing what Draco was doing. 

She felt the bed dip and suspected that Draco was joining her. The dip settled just in between her legs. God, she hated that she couldn't see. But it seemed to heighten all of her other senses. She could hear his heavy breathing and could feel the energy radiating off him as much as it was radiating off her. Hands reached out to each of her legs, starting at the ankles and moving upwards. She thought that he was going slowly to gauge her reaction, but she wanted something to happen now. She could feel herself getting wetter, and wondered if it was apparent. Her body hummed for him, filled with the intoxicating scent of him and the dizzying feeling of his hands on her skin. And all he was doing was running his hands up her thigh. 

Draco mumbled something that Hermione couldn't quite catch, and then her entire body began to tingle. She pulled against the knot around her wrists, and instead of feeling fabric, she felt the smooth skin of her back. She couldn't help but let out a small yelp when she realized that she was completely naked, tied up in front of Draco, and at his complete mercy. Those delicious hands continued to advance upward, one stopping to linger dangerously close to her sex, and the other moving up to her chest. Before Hermione had enough time to process the lingering tingle of whatever charm he had used, her left nipple was being pinched between two fingers, and a finger stroked slowly up her slit. 

Something like a whine escaped her lips, and she was sure she heard Draco growl. 

"You're already so wet for me," Draco sounded hungry as if he was ready to devour her whole. She wondered if he was surprised. What witch wouldn't be this wet for him on any given day of the week? 

Hermione grabbed at the sheets behind her back, her knees wanting to clamp shut. She wondered why he hadn't tied her legs apart too. 

"I want to see if you can keep your legs open for me," Draco purred as if he had read her thoughts. "Can you do that?"

She vigorously nodded her head. "Yes, Draco."

His tongue was licking up the same trail that his finger had made, licking her clit in torturous circles. She gasped at the sudden feeling, the sensation making her head roll back against the pillows. 

She could feel the tip of his finger at her entrance, but he simply teased it with the promise of the pressure that would send her over the edge. Every muscle in her body was screaming for him to just please stop teasing. Her toes curled as the tingle spread from the apex of her thighs to the tips of her toes. She tried shifting her hips forward, to hint to him to just please put something  _ in _ her already, but then his hand left her chest to keep her hips pressed into the bed. 

"Do you want my fingers inside you?" His finger momentarily replaced his mouth on her clit, as the other continued to make lazy circles around her entrance. 

"Yes, please, Draco,  _ please _ ." She could barely choke the words out she wanted it that bad. 

"You've got to cum first, Granger," his tongue flicked out to her clit when he said her last name, making her toes curl. "Only good girls get to cum  _ on _ me."

His mouth immediately returned to ravaging her, the tip of his finger braced right on the edge—so close but so far away. She wanted to clench onto something to ease the pressure building up inside of her. It was so dizzying and frustrating. And that made the pressure build more. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming. 

"Draco,  _ please _ ," she whimpered, her legs wanting desperately to snap shut. Forcing them to stay open was half of the battle; the other was convincing him to just please give her what she wanted. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue assaulting it with a new speed that had her screaming. "Can I cum? Please."

Draco chuckled softly against her as he pulled back for a brief moment. "Say my name when you do."

The words had barely left his lips when she was screaming out his name, forcing out a  _ thank you _ , and choking on air as two fingers slid easily inside her. His name reverberated off the bedroom walls, and she wondered if anyone else was home—if anyone else could hear the sounds that she was making. As soon as the pressure had been released, she felt it building up again, and her heart felt as if it was going to explode. There was no way he could make her cum again that fast—

And then her thighs were shaking as her body twisted with the feeling of pleasure ripping through it. Draco immediately stopped, his fingers and mouth pulling away just as she reached the peak of her second climax. She screamed at the feeling, her legs dropping to the bed. 

"Tsk tsk," she felt the weight of him move over her body, his right hand pressed into the mattress beside her face. And then, there was a hand around her neck, firm but gentle as it turned her head to the side. "You were supposed to ask, weren't you?"

Hermione let out a frustrated huff, her thighs trying to rub together to ease tension. But, there was a set of hips in her way. He was between her legs, and she could feel him at her entrance, teasing. 

"I'm s-sorry Draco," she licked at her lips, already addicted to the feeling of the hand at her throat. She was sure a very unapologetic smile had made its way onto her face. "It just felt so—"

In one thrust, he was buried to the hilt, their hip bones snapping deliciously against each other. Hermione's toes curled as she took in just how big he was. Every inch of her was filled up and pressed, her walls clenching down around him at the feeling. He pulled back until she was nearly empty and then swiftly filled her up again. The hand around her throat squeezed on either side of her jaw, causing her to clench. He released. 

"I don't think you deserve to cum anymore, Granger," his lips were hovering inches from hers. He hadn't kissed her once—and suddenly, she wanted him to take over her mouth just as he had every other inch of her. "Not unless you earn it."

The sounds that came from Hermione's mouth sounded animalistic, and she was shocked that they belonged to her. She'd never felt such intense pleasure; it was nearly too much. But she wanted more. She needed more. And the way that he was thrusting into her was making the rest of the world fall away. She couldn't feel the sheets in her fingertips or the sweat that was pooling on her skin. All that she could feel was him inside of her, ramming wonderfully into  _ that _ _ spot _ every single time he entered her. It was as if he'd spent years mapping out her body, finding every last nerve ending that caused pleasure. But he'd done it on the first try. 

"Oh, yes, please," she wanted desperately to scratch or bite at something, her jaw clenched. 

And then he was kissing her, his hand squeezing her throat and jaw so that her mouth popped open, allowing his tongue to capture hers. She moaned into his mouth, eagerly kissing him back. He tasted like euphoria if that even made sense. She wanted his tongue  _ closer _ , his hand  _ tighter _ , and his cock  _ deeper _ . And he gave her every last bit of what she wanted. 

She was going to cum again. Any second. The pressure was mounting, and she was beginning to lose track of anything except the feeling of herself tightening around him, searching for that one thrust that was going to send her over the edge. 

"I'm, Draco, I'm," she couldn't even get the words out. 

"You're what, Granger?" He accentuated her last name with a squeeze. 

"I'm going to cum," she gasped. "Please, can I?"

"I don't know," Draco slammed into her and then stopped moving, the pressure intense against that one spot. She saw stars behind the blindfold. "Can you?"

"May I," she wanted to smack him. He knew what she meant. "May I please come, Draco—please!" 

"When I say you can."

And then his hands were in her hair, holding her face to the bed as he captured her lips and thrusted. She wished she could scratch her nails down his back, but she settled for biting on his lip. His thrusts were becoming more sporadic, and she knew that he was chasing his climax. She was there, standing on the edge, fighting herself as she tried not to jump over. She didn't know how much longer she could last. She was going to explode. 

"Now, Granger," he pulled away and moaned into her ear. His grip was tight in her hair, which was good—it helped alleviate some of the pressure. "I want you to show me how good my cock makes you feel."

And then they were both screaming out each other's names as he rammed into her for the last time, his body going stiff. She felt herself spasming around him, the world-shattering to pieces like fireworks. 

Suddenly, the blindfold vanished, along with the knot around her wrists. She opened her eyes to see Draco staring down at her as he tried to slow his breathing, still inside of her. A hand reached up to brush the hair from her forehead, slick with sweat. Strands of his blond hair stuck to his temples, and she watched a droplet of sweat slide down his collarbone. He dropped his forehead to hers, their lips inches apart. 

"Was that, um," Draco ran his thumb across her lips, searching her eyes. "Was that good? For you?"

Hermione fought the urge to smack him. She wiggled her arms out from beneath herself and reached up to put one hand on each of his collarbones. His chest was strong; the muscles were flexing with each breath he took. 

"I think that's the best sex I've ever had," Hermione replied shyly. "Thank you, Draco."

Draco moaned and captured her lips in a tender kiss, the kind that makes your mind go blank. His hands on her body were tender then, cupping her as if she was a piece of glass that he didn't want to break. 

"I love it when you say my name," he said. "I've spent years wanting to hear you say my name, Hermione. I love many things about you, but the way my name sounds coming from your lips is intoxicating."

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. "Are you admitting that you're in love with me?"

The thought was dizzying. Draco Malfoy—of all people—was admitting that he was in love with her? After he'd tied her up and fucked her senseless? He'd spent years calling her names and getting her into trouble and—

"Not yet," he admitted, holding her gaze. His eyes were soft. "But I get closer every single day."


End file.
